


Simpler than Imagined

by tocourtdisaster



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Community: jim_and_bones, M/M, Prompt Fic, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-29
Updated: 2010-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:39:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tocourtdisaster/pseuds/tocourtdisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Convincing McCoy that having sex would be a good idea is simpler than Jim could have ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simpler than Imagined

**Author's Note:**

> So, I apparently unknowingly lied about not posting any more fic before the new year, but I hadn't yet checked out the resolutions flashfic challenge at [](http://community.livejournal.com/jim_and_bones/profile)[**jim_and_bones**](http://community.livejournal.com/jim_and_bones/). This was written for the following prompt by [](http://imagined-haven.livejournal.com/profile)[**imagined_haven**](http://imagined-haven.livejournal.com/): _Jim: Finally convince that sexy doctor friend of yours to jump into bed with you._

He plans. He schemes. He comes up with plots too intricate for anyone else's feeble brain to comprehend.

Those lips. Eyes. Shoulders. That _ass_. All together in one package, it's almost unreal. Jim's sure that once he finally convinces McCoy, it'll be like hitting the sexual jackpot.

And he _will_ convince McCoy that it's a good idea for them to fuck if it's the last thing he does.

(Though he hopes the convincing isn't the last thing he does because that would mean he'd miss out on the actual fucking and that would be a fucking tragedy.)

He starts out slowly, thinking McCoy's probably skittish after his divorce, never mind the fact that it's been almost a year and Jim's fairly certain the man's not been _completely_ celibate during that time. Regardless, he doesn't want to spook McCoy, so he starts small.

There's an arm around those delectable shoulders accompanied by a hip bump and a leer. There's regularly invading the man's personal space during conversation. There's passing out in McCoy's lap after too many drinks. There's wandering around the dorm room in naught but a towel, dripping wet after twenty minutes in the shower spent fantasizing about McCoy's lips around his cock.

Jim's thinking about stepping up his game while he digs through his dresser, looking for clean underwear, the towel dangling precariously on his hips, when he feels warmth against his back and McCoy's breath against his neck.

"Is there something you're trying to tell me, kid?" McCoy asks, his breath a warm gust against Jim's ear. Jim's own breath momentarily abandons him when he feels McCoy's hands on his hips underneath the towel, those clever fingers of his creeping towards the spot where the towel is tucked into itself and barely holding on.

McCoy's fingers close over the fold in the towel and Jim's finally able to draw in a breath, more of a gasp really, but it's oxygen and that's pretty awesome right now.

"You've been wanderin' around in as little clothing as possible for weeks now, Jim," McCoy continues, his one hand completely still over the towel while the fingers of his other hand are drumming lightly against Jim's hipbone. It's fucking distracting and Jim never wants him to stop. Except maybe to fuck Jim senseless or to let Jim fuck him senseless, he's not picky which. "Hangin' all over me. I'd almost think you wanted to fuck me."

Jim can't answer; his voice is caught behind the lump in his throat that he can't seem to swallow. His hands tighten around the edge of the dresser drawer, rattling it in its frame.

McCoy laughs lowly and the sound of it sends every single solitary blood cell in Jim's body straight to his cock. It's a predatory laugh, one that Jim's never heard pass from McCoy's lips, a laugh that gives Jim all sorts of ideas and visions of McCoy in charge and Jim unable to move for a week.

"I'll take that as a yes," McCoy says and he lets go of the towel. Jim feels it sliding over his rapidly hardening cock and can't stop the moan that comes from the delicious sensation of the terry cloth slipping to the floor.

"Don't you know," McCoy says, his voice deep and just oozing liquid sex, "that all you had to do was ask?"

McCoy is touching Jim, his hands a warm weight against Jim's hips, but he's not touching him anywhere he wants to be touched so Jim tries to push back, tries to press his back against McCoy's chest, his ass against McCoy's dick, but McCoy holds him in place without ever moving his hands from Jim's hips.

Jim can't help but moan again. He's always known that McCoy's got some strength hidden underneath his scrubs, but nothing like this.

"I haven't heard you ask yet, Jim," McCoy drawls and Jim whimpers. They haven't even done anything yet and he already feels wrecked and isn't sure he'd be able to form a coherent sentence if he tried.

McCoy laughs again and Jim's eyes flutter shut, his hands still tight on the dresser drawer. If he doesn't hold onto it, he's gonna go for his cock and he knows, he _knows_ that that would end this delicious torture by McCoy and he's certainly not ready for that.

"I'll make it easy on you, Jim. All you have to do is say one word. One word, Jim," McCoy says, his thumbs digging into the muscles in Jim's back. "Do you want to fuck me?"

Jim swallows and breathes deeps and manages to croak out, "Yes," before McCoy's spinned and pressed him against the front of the dresser, the drawer pulls digging into his back and ass. Before Jim can even blink, McCoy's on his knees getting acquainted with Jim's cock and Jim can't even quantify the noise that just came out of his mouth, but it makes McCoy laugh and the vibration feels fucking _awesome_.

McCoy's a fucking _master_ at this, knows exactly when to tease with fingers and tongue and teeth and when exactly to take Jim deep, when to pin Jim's hips against the dresser and when to let Jim fuck into his mouth with uncontrollable thrusts.

Jim loses track of time while McCoy works him over, forgets the dresser pulls pressed into his skin, forgets everything the but feel of McCoy's mouth on him, of McCoy's fingers digging bruises into his skin. He feels his orgasm burning for an eternity, but just when he feels like he's going to explode if he doesn't come, McCoy pulls away completely and Jim collapses to the carpet, his cock still hard and flushed and covered in McCoy's saliva.

"What? Why?" is all that Jim's able to get out, his brain still mostly fried from the best blowjob he's ever experienced.

"I thought you wanted to fuck me?" McCoy says, getting to his feet and stripping off his uniform. Jim had forgotten that McCoy was still completely dressed. Once he's naked, Jim finally gets a look at his cock, big and gorgeous, and Jim's mouth starts to water just looking at it and he can't help himself. He grabs McCoy's hand and yanks and McCoy ends up in his lap and Jim finally, _finally_ , gets his tongue in that mouth.

McCoy moans and shifts around until he's straddling Jim's legs, their mouths parting only for quick breaths before they're back to trying to get to each other's tonsils. McCoy draws back and Jim feels bereft at the loss for only a moment before his mouth is replaced with his fingers and Jim goes to town fellating them while McCoy goes to town working on leaving what will probably be an impressive hickey just underneath Jim's jawline.

Jim's not sure how long they're like that, rutting against each other aimlessly before McCoy swaps fingers for mouth again, lifting up on his knees, their cocks pressing together while he opens himself up on his spit-slicked fingers. Jim pulls away far enough to watch because there is _no way_ he's missing seeing this.

McCoy's starting to gasp and Jim's certain he's hitting his own prostate now, so he grabs McCoy's wrist and yanks his hand away before grasping McCoy by the hips and trying to move him to where he wants him. McCoy catches on quickly and grasps Jim's cock, positioning it against his hole before sinking down in one smooth movement.

"Oh, Jesus," Jim gasps when his balls are pressed snug against McCoy's ass and then McCoy starts to move and Jim can't say anything, can hardly breathe at all. His fingers are digging into McCoy's hips and he knows they'll have matching bruises in the morning, but he can't seem to bring himself to care.

Jim comes sooner than he'd like, but McCoy just clenches around him and reaches for his own cock, stroking the shaft with one hand while the other goes for his balls. Jim lifts McCoy's hips up enough to slip his softening cock out of McCoy's ass and replaces it with his fingers and, oh, sweet Jesus, this is almost as good as having his cock in McCoy's ass.

McCoy comes against Jim's chest with his hands on his cock and Jim's fingers pressed firm against his prostate.

"Fuck," McCoy breaths out once Jim's withdrawn his fingers and wiped them against the carpet. McCoy swings his leg over and ends up on his ass next to Jim.

Jim turns his head, his temple against the dresser, and says, "So all I have to do is ask, huh?"

"Yeah," McCoy says, closing his eyes and tilting his head back against the dresser.

"Good to know." Jim bumps his shoulder against McCoy's and leaves it there. "Good to know."

  
 **End**   



End file.
